


Not All Treasure (is silver and gold)

by cathcer1984



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: ‘In small matters trust the mind, in the large ones trust the heart’ ~ Sigmund Freud. Severus can’t decide if Harry Potter is a small matter or a large one.





	Not All Treasure (is silver and gold)

**Author's Note:**

> I have come out of fic-hibernation to write this for you, my dear prompter. I can only hope you will get as much enjoyment out of reading it as I have re-found whilst writing it. I have missed these characters, particularly our beloved Potions Professor; I took the time to explore facets of his personality that I have previously ignored. And our dear hero, Harry: who has been through so much at such a young age, and I have put him through some more difficulties- after all how easy is a pregnancy? Not to mention a teenage one, add in his male-ness and it’s a can of worms that he never knew could be opened. Through this fic I have been welcomed back into the magical world that we all love, with characters we adore and despise in turn. I have found my words again I hope you appreciate them. ~ Anon 
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to the mods and my beta, B. You each deserve all the good things.
> 
> Title is a quote by Captain Jack Sparrow from _Pirates of the Caribbean_.
> 
> Prompt 3 from magicalthings: Harry turns up at Hogwarts the Christmas after the war heavily pregnant with Severus' baby, after their having slept together during the ending of the war celebrations.

“And how does the defendant plead?” The melodic voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt sounded abnormally loud in the courtroom. 

There was a heavily weighted silence before the harsh whispered reply. “Guilty.” Severus Snape kept his head high and eyes flickered briefly to his left before staring straight ahead. He was paler than usual, his hair lank and stringy, and there was a large white bandage around his neck with bright red spots of blood seeping through. 

A loud murmur swept through the courtroom. Snape had pleaded guilty for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, the persecution of minors, grievous bodily harm and being an active Death Eater. 

Kingsley tapped his wand and a loud bang echoed each time it hit the wooden podium in front of him. He cleared his throat. “Is there a witness for the defence?”

“No,” Snape replied in his new unnatural, scratchy tone. 

“Yes,” came a confident male voice overriding Snape’s whisper. “Witness for the defence, Harry James Potter.” 

*

The trials started almost immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. Snape’s was the biggest thus far, starting in the early hours on the fifth of May. There had been no time for celebrations; the funerals and the trials took precedence over the joy and relief. 

The biggest supporters of Voldemort had their trials first. Snape’s was unjustly early due to his injury. Healers at Saint Mungo’s refused to treat him and he was left in the Hogwarts infirmary under the watchful, and somewhat disparaging, eye of Madam Pomfrey. 

Snape had had the most information from both sides of the war and, as such, had been able to assume his life was in danger. He had anticipated an attack from Voldemort for a while and had been taking precautions, mainly an anti-venom, and he got lucky. His anti-venom worked long enough for him to be found soon after the battle ended. 

He lost consciousness after giving Potter his memories. More than Potter needed but Snape knew how to manipulate the boy’s emotions after having observed Dumbledore steer Potter in the direction he wanted for years. Even after Dumbledore’s death, Potter followed his direction without fail. It was what Snape knew would send Potter into the Forbidden Forest to greet Death, rather than run from it. 

He sat in the cold chair; the chains wrapped tightly around his wrists were heavy with old magic. Snape kept his head up, staring at the Wizengamot. He would accept the punishment they delivered. He knew what he had done. The world knew he had murdered Dumbledore. Only Potter knew it was a mercy killing for the greater good. And, as Snape flicked his eyes to the packed public gallery, he could see Potter was obviously not there. He felt the bitterness of disappointment, though the feeling was fleeting.

Then, the atmosphere changed and Snape knew as he watched Potter from the corner of his eye that the proverbial tide had turned. It took two days for the Wizengamot to listen to Potter’s impassioned plea. Suddenly, in an eternity that lasted a minute, Snape was a free man. He was unable to return to teaching, though that was not something he had planned on continuing. He was to give up the post of headmaster, something that had never been done in Hogwarts thousand-year history. He would be remembered by history as the deserting headmaster. If that was the price to pay for his deeds, then it was a burden he would grudgingly bear.

On his first day as a free man, Snape visited his home in Spinner’s End. It was a sad and disturbing place and he had no need of it. With a couple waves of his wand, all of his possessions were in his old school trunk, his books in a second trunk, and soon they were shrunk and sitting in his pocket. With a hoarse “Incendio,” Snape Apparated away from the burning house to stand in a square of green before another old house. 

Grimmauld Place was ruined after Yaxley got in. The Order’s headquarters were ransacked, the charms on it broken, and yet the rumour was that Potter had returned here after the Battle.

Snape had one more thing to do. 

He approached the front door and knocked a quick _rap, rap, rap_. 

It took a few minutes but the door opened to reveal a surprised Potter, who shuffled his socked feet. “I suppose you want your memories back.” 

“I want to thank you.” 

“I’m- er, what?” Potter’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead and Snape felt the colour rise in his cheeks. “Did I hear right?”

With a soft cough Snape’s fingers rose to press against the bandage around his neck. “You heard me,” he rasped. 

Nodding once, Potter stood aside and Snape entered the dim hallway. He catalogued the damage the Death Eaters had done; Mrs. Black’s portrait was torn and she could not speak, though her mouth moved. The floor was covered in debris and dust. Scorch marks decorated the walls.

“It’s a work in progress.” Potter grinned. “Come on down to the kitchen. That’s serviceable. And Kreacher can make us some tea.” 

Snape felt wrong-footed. This Potter was confident and unpretentious. It was addictive to Snape. Power was attractive but the ease with which this teenager carried it was intoxicating. Snape followed Potter down the stairs and he watched the way his body moved under his Muggle clothing, thin and scrawny from his year on the run but comfortable and strong, as well. 

Once seated, Potter was eyeing Snape carefully. Snape looked back. Something unspoken passed between them and Potter held out his hand to shake. Snape took it; it was warm and firm. “Thank you, Professor Snape. For everything.”

Snape rasped, “Call me Severus.” He inclined his head slightly. “I appreciate what you did for me, Mister Potter. I am indebted to you.”

“Let’s call it even then, yeah?” Potter’s hand tightened around Snape’s. “And call me Harry… Severus.” 

*

It was a potent _thing_ he had with Harry. They were two men raised in similar circumstances: both verbally and physically abused in their homes, Hogwarts was their refuge, both Half-Bloods and both saved the Wizarding world with their deaths... So to speak. Both of them led like pigs to be slaughtered, and each of them Dumbledore’s man through and through. 

Severus felt an affinity with Harry. The younger man was kinder, happier, more carefree than Severus could ever be. He was a lot like Lily, and less like James than Severus had initially assumed. But Harry was more than each of his parents, more than both of them. He was just _more_. And Severus was heady with it. 

Harry was seemingly likewise affected. There was an unspoken agreement to not talk about their Hogwarts years together, James Potter or Voldemort. As a result there was hardly any talking at all, and they found other ways to pass the time in each other’s company. 

Until one day it stopped. 

Unaware of the full reasons, Severus allowed Harry to make his awkward excuses… Auror training that was starting soon was the main one. So, after one last afternoon spent in each other’s company, Severus parted ways with Harry and he left Britain, taking the chance to explore the world. They both vowed to keep in contact.

They both lied. 

*

“Hermione stop fussing. Please,” Harry said again. “I am fine.” 

She frowned at him over her tea. “We both know that’s not true but I won’t say anything more. Are you coming to the ball?”

“I have to. Kingsley’s orders. Besides, it’s Christmas at Hogwarts.” Harry smiled ruefully.

“Do you know anyone else going?” Hermione took another sip of her tea. 

“Ron, Ginny, most of the Weasleys as you know. Neville. I think Malfoy’s going to be there with his fiancee.” Harry ran a hand across his stomach in frustration. “If you’re asking whether I know if Severus will be there, the answer is no.”

Hermione reached over and took hold of his hand. “You still haven’t spoken to him?” 

“He never sent me an owl.” 

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione quietly pointed out that Harry had never sent him one, either. “Communication works both ways. And I think it’s fair to say you have something important to tell him.” 

“He’s almost forty, Hermione. Severus won’t want to tie himself down with some teenager.” 

“You’re hardly just _some teenager_ ,” she mimicked. “Harry, you’re the Boy Who Lived. You’ve seen so much in your eighteen years: too much, even. We all have. But Snape wouldn’t have stayed as long as he did if he didn’t want to. And you can’t be angry with him, Harry. You ended it, with some flimsy excuse.” 

“Auror training was not a flimsy excuse!” Harry retorted hotly. “But it was better than the truth. I could see how our friendship was affecting the family.” Shaking his head, Harry tried to banish the thoughts of Molly’s disappointed face, the way Arthur wouldn’t meet his eyes, Ginny’s angry, hateful words… it was easier to forget. 

“Severus deserved to know the truth. You should have respected him enough to let him make his own decision. For all you know, he might have stayed by your side and helped to change people’s minds.” 

Harry grimaced. “Yeah. Or he could have slunk off into the shadows, like he did. And why are you taking his side?”

“As he did, when you didn’t give him a choice.” Hermione stood; she leaned over and pressed her lips to Harry’s hair, squeezing his hand at the same time. “I’m on your side, Harry, never forget that. Always will be. But sometimes being on your side means pointing out things you should have done differently.” 

As she moved around the kitchen putting their used cups into the sink, Harry fell into deep thought. Perhaps he hadn’t been fair; maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends. He looked down and snorted derisively to himself: then again, maybe he had left it too long for atonement.

The Floo flared and Ron’s gangly frame stepped out of the green flames. “Alright, mate?”  He came over and gripped Harry’s shoulder as he passed to pull Hermione into his arms, kissing her gently on the lips. “Hello.” 

“Hi Ron,” she said sounding amused. “I thought you were working today?” 

“It’s a quiet Saturday, Verity can handle it. And Harry said you were stopping by, so I knew I had to see for myself the great bookworm herself away from the Hogwarts Library in the middle of term!” Ron laughed, and Harry couldn’t help but join in. 

Hermione tried to smother a smile. “Education is important. And it’s the last weekend of term, I just came to see if Harry was going to the ball.”

“Twist my arm, you mean,” Harry grumbled. “I can’t go out like this.” 

“Mate.” Ron sounded serious. “You have to go and show them you’re still Harry Potter. You’ll have us, and Gin will be there. Neville, Luna, the whole D.A. will be there to keep things from getting too bad. Besides it’s at Hogwarts, not the Ministry, more control over who will be there. McGonagall won’t let anything happen to you on school grounds. To any of us. So we will go, and have fun. And if you ask her nicely, I’m sure McGonagall will dance with you.” 

With a bark of laughter, Harry nodded. “Okay, I’ll go.” He felt a strange sensation in his stomach; it felt like dread.

*

Hogwarts was just as beautiful as Harry remembered. He felt warm when he saw the snowy turrets; he was coming home, even if for just one night. With Ron on one side and Molly on the other, Arthur in front and Percy, Bill and Fleur behind them, Harry and the Weasleys made their way up the drive to the castle.

Sound filtered out the open front doors where McGonagall was greeting people as they entered. She caught Harry’s eye before her gaze swiftly moved down his body, her lips pursed with disappointment. Harry hung his head with shame. 

“Ignore it, Harry,” Bill murmured. 

“Potter,” McGonagall addressed him. “I am pleased to see that you made it.” 

Harry nodded. “Er, thanks.”

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas, Professor.” Harry entered the Entrance Hall and Hermione was at his side in an instant. “I don’t think McGonagall is very happy with me,” Harry told her as she linked their arms together. 

Hermione leaned in close. “She probably isn’t, especially now. And I know why.” 

Looking at her, Harry felt as though he knew exactly the words that were going to come out of her mouth. He felt every sense of dread at being right when she said, “Snape’s here.” 

“Bloody hell,” Ron gushed out as he came to join them. “McGonagall is not impressed, is she?” 

“Snape’s here,” Hermione said without preamble. “They’ve always been close as Dumbledore’s main advisors. They might even be friends.” 

“They are,” Harry croaked out. He swallowed around a dry mouth. “Severus said that she was one of his closest friends, and that’s why he never attacked her... just used defensive magic. He couldn’t bear to hurt her. He’s probably told her everything about us and now she’s seen me…” Harry trailed off, waving a hand down his body. 

Ron and Hermione shared a look. “What do you want to do, mate?” 

With a snort, Harry said, “Leave before he sees me.” 

“Too late,” Hermione whispered. Harry followed her gaze to where Severus was standing at the steps leading down to the dungeons. Their eyes met and held for a long moment before Severus turned away and moved into the crowd.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He wanted more from Severus. He wanted some sort of reaction, not the blankness. Severus ignoring Harry stung, probably because he never assumed that it would happen. He expected Severus to come up and greet him like a friend, at least… Harry sighed. He had assumed Severus would have reacted the way Harry would have. 

“I need some time,” Harry said and Hermione guided him to a classroom. 

“Take your time. No one will disturb you here.” She kissed his cheek and ushered him into the dark room before shutting the door. 

He turned around and saw that he was in Firenze’s Divination classroom. The one that looked like the Forbidden Forest, Harry sat on a stump and looked up at the magicked night sky feeling lost, alone and so very, very small.

*

The classroom was quiet and smelled damp and earthy. He stayed in the shadows for a long time just looking until Harry turned around and realised he wasn’t alone.

“Severus-” Harry looked lost, guilty and as beautiful as Severus knew him to be. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.” He rested a hand on his protruding belly. 

They stood in silence. 

“Please say something,” Harry whispered. 

Severus didn’t. Silence was a weapon, one he could wield as well as any wand. 

They stood in the faux forest staring at each other. Severus was tempted to use Legilimency. He knew it was unfair, that it was a breach of trust. Severus was on the back foot, though; he felt that he was at a disadvantage, not fully sure if the child in Harry’s belly was his. The timing was right for the end of May but they hadn’t spoken since then and surely, _surely_ , if he were to be a father, Harry would have had the decency to tell him. 

Clearly Severus had been wrong about the type of man that Harry had turned out to be. 

“Please.” Harry’s voice was rough. “Say something.” 

“Is it mine?” Severus asked bluntly.

Harry was affronted. “Of course it is. How could you ask me that?”

With difficulty Severus kept his voice level. “As I have not seen you since the end of May and we have not been in contact, I am not so arrogant as to assume that there was, is, no other lover.” 

“Other lover?” Harry repeated. “There is no one else. There hasn’t been. I didn’t even know this could happen! And contact works both ways, Severus. You could have Owled me.”

“I did not have such big news as pregnancy,” Severus hissed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Though I admit I did not know this was a possibility, either.” 

Harry grinned. “Molly reckons it’s an old Pureblood thing, to ensure the purity of the name. But most Purebloods are heterosexual, so when two strong Pureblood lines and two men with powerful magic come together, it can result in a baby. Our baby, Severus.” 

“Why did you not tell me?”

With a sigh, Harry sat back down on the stump. “I was ashamed. I was scared. I got sick, Severus, and I didn’t know why. When I was told I was pregnant I thought they were messing with my mind. Until Molly sat me down and explained.” He looked over to Severus, as if that were the end of his tale. 

“That was seven months ago, Harry. Thirty weeks. Two hundred and thirteen days.” Severus levelled Harry with a stare. “I simply do not understand why you kept this from me.”

“I-”

“Would you have ever told me?” Severus raised an eyebrow. Harry looked away. “I shall take that as a no. You are not the man I thought you were, Harry.” As he turned to leave Severus heard Harry call out his name. He paused with his hand on the doorknob but nothing more was said. 

Severus left. 

*

Harry didn't return to the party after Severus left. Instead he wandered around the castle, revisiting some of his favourite places. 

"There you are," Ginny said. "I've looked all over for you. You okay?" 

Shrugging, Harry replied, "I saw Severus."

"I figured. He came into the Great Hall, spoke to McGonagall and left pretty quick."

"I messed up."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "You did. So how are you going to fix it?" 

Harry rubbed his belly; the baby kicked. "I just want to tell him everything. But he could hardly look at me... well _he_ wouldn't stop staring. _I_ couldn't look at him."

"Write him a letter. Explain everything. He'll read it."

With a bitter laugh, Harry said, "Or burn it."

"Snape will hear you out. He will read it. He's fair enough for that. Just make it a good letter." She held out her hand. "Now come on. You owe me a dance."

Taking her hand in his, Harry smiled at Ginny. "Thanks, Gin."

"You can thank me by naming your kid after me." She smirked. "I have a bet going with George. You better not make me lose!”

*  
_Severus,_

_I hope you will have enough respect for me to finish this letter. I’m trying to explain myself as best I can._

_You and I both know what it’s like to grow up with two people who neither loved nor wanted us. And I am sure I speak for you, as well, when I say I don’t want that for our child._

_I should have told you but I didn’t think it was something to write down. It was something to be told face to face, in private, just you and I. I took that away from you. You missed all the scans, the first time the baby kicked. You missed it because of me. I don’t want to take any more from you, not anything you aren’t willing to lose._

_February 5th, 1999. That’s the due date. I would like you to be there. I want us to be on better terms when it comes around. I want so many things with and from you, Severus. I want to share our child, I want to share a home, I want a family that is mine._

_If you want, perhaps you’d like to come round for dinner Christmas Eve? I’ll visit my parents’ graves in Godric’s Hollow at five in the evening, as I did for the first time last year. I hope to see you after._

_Yours,  
Harry_

*

Severus sat back in his chair and stared into the flickering flames. The letter from Harry lay on the table beside him. 

“Have you decided what you will do, Severus?” 

“Not yet, Albus.” Severus glanced at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. 

The old wizard hummed thoughtfully and sat in the plush chair behind him. “I must say I was surprised by the change in your relationship.”

“War and death change people.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Indeed they do, my boy.” They sat in silence; only the crackling of the fire was to be heard. Severus picked up the letter and read again. “May an old, dead wizard offer his opinion?”

“You will, even if I do not wish to hear it.” Severus waved a hand. “Go ahead, Albus, my mind cannot be in more turmoil.”

“Ah. And there lies your problem, Severus.” Dumbledore waited for Severus to look at him before continuing, “Young Harry and the child he carries are not a matter of the mind. They are a matter of the heart.” 

*

It was cold and dark; the hymns that came from the church filled the air. The warm voices swirled and disappeared with the wind. The cemetery possessed a certain kind of magic, though not a kind that could be created with a wand. Severus saw a figure standing at the graves he was going to visit.

He approached slowly, the snow crunching under his shoes. Harry looked up as Severus drew near. He was wrapped up against the elements but his belly was still showing through his cloak. Harry smiled tentatively. “You’re really here?”

Severus hated how disbelieving Harry sounded, hated that he had made it that way. He reached out and trailed a finger over Harry’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Harry replied, his smile wide as he gripped Severus’ hand. He stepped forward into Severus’ space, pregnant belly brushing against Severus. 

They shared air for a few moments before Severus leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry’s. His hand rested against Harry’s belly and he felt their child moving about inside. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’ shoulders as he deepened the kiss. 

To Severus, Harry tasted like home. 

In the deep cold of midwinter, Severus felt full of hope; for the first time in a long time, he was excited for what the future would bring. It would not be full of death, it would have life in it instead. 

He pulled away from Harry’s mouth to say, “Shall we go home?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed; his cheeks were two spots of bright red as he drew away and took Severus’ hand in his. “Merry Christmas, Mum. Merry Christmas, Dad. See you next year,” Harry said, looking at the graves and the wreath on them. 

Severus felt the breeze whistle around them. It felt familiar, somehow. “Merry Christmas, Lily,” Severus whispered, feeling Harry’s hand tighten around his briefly. Together, they made their way out of the cemetery to Apparate away somewhere unseen. 

Unable to help himself, Severus smiled. 

*

Life didn’t magically become any easier for Severus, or for Harry. They saw each other a few times a week, mostly at Severus’ flat above his newly bought potions shop. Severus wasn’t a simpleton and he knew that Harry was, in essence, hiding him. 

He felt like a dirty secret. He saw only his cauldrons, Harry and Minerva. Severus visited Hogwarts every Friday evening to see his old colleague and new friend. Minerva had been furious when she heard that Severus had been sleeping with Harry. He had to talk her down from hexing him. He’d told her the truth, that there was something about Harry that enticed him, drew him in. Harry had made Severus feel cherished, and Severus tried to show the same amount of affection to Harry. It hadn’t been enough, then. 

Severus didn’t think it was enough now. 

He and Harry were sitting at Severus’ rickety dining table eating dinner in relative silence. Severus put down his knife and fork. “Do you want to be with me or is it just because of the baby?” Severus rasped. He frowned at his own bluntness, then stared at Harry, waiting for a response. 

“What?” Harry scowled. “How could you ask me that?” 

“Because we never leave this flat. At least, not together.” Severus took a deep breath. “Before, we would be at yours, the Weasleys knew you and I were _something_ to each other. Now, they know you are pregnant and I am the reason why, do they know it’s more than that?”

“ _Is_ it more than that?” Harry questioned.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “It is to me. However, I am beginning to feel as if I am the only one in this for the long haul.”

“I’m sorry if you got that impression. We’re having a child together, Severus; that in and of itself speaks to long-term commitment.” 

“To the child, yes. Between ourselves, not necessarily.” Severus sighed. “I was the child of a forced marriage, an unhappy marriage between two people who should never have been together for a prolonged period of time. I’m simply wondering if our time has passed. Perhaps we should concentrate on being parents, instead of lovers as well.”

“Is this because we haven’t had sex?” demanded Harry. 

Shaking his head, Severus said, “No. I don’t need sex, Harry, I use it to connect to a person but it is not the only way I connect with someone. Our intimacy is nonexistent. We do not talk any more; I feel as if you are forcing yourself to be in my company to keep the peace for the child’s sake.” 

Harry looked sad. “I don’t want you to run away, again.”

“I left because I was no longer welcome. You gave me obviously weak excuses. I assumed, probably wrongly, that you did not want me around and were being polite about it.” Severus reached for his water glass; speaking a lot still made his throat dry.

“I-” Harry slumped forward. Then he stood up and came round to stand before Severus. Harry cupped Severus’ face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I am so sorry you feel this way. Molly’s been on at me since Christmas Day to bring you ‘round to the Burrow. I just wanted things to get better between us, too. But that’s on me as well, not just you.” 

Severus grasped Harry’s hand and pressed a kiss to his fingers. “Come, let’s sit in the living room and I’ll tell you about my travels.”

Gentle fingers trailed over the scar on Severus’ throat. “You’ll be sore,” Harry whispered. 

“Not too much.” Severus stood, drawing Harry close to him. “You can tell me about your pregnancy and news of your family.” 

With a beautiful smile, Harry pulled Severus closer and held him tight. “In a minute,” he breathed. “I missed this… you.”

Holding Harry close, Severus kissed his cheek and hair. “And I you.” 

*

The Burrow was, as Severus expected, chaotic: not only with a cacophony of sounds but the clashing colours of many coloured robes and clothes, Weasley red hair and the multiple balls of wool. Severus still felt welcome and safe, if somewhat awkward. 

Harry was off with Ron and Hermione upstairs. Severus had taken refuge in the quiet of the kitchen with Molly. Together they were preparing the lunch. Severus cut potatoes with a sharp knife next to Molly’s magicked one chopping onions. Molly was using her wand to trim rosemary off a nearby plant and her nimble fingers were placing it, alongside cloves of garlic, at intervals on the leg of lamb that would soon be roasted. 

“Mum, have you seen- Oh.” George stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Severus. “Professor,” he greeted Snape dully.

“I have not been your teacher for some time, and I am no longer a teacher. You need not address me as such.” Severus glanced up; guilt settled in his stomach as he took in the earless side of George’s head. 

Then, Severus looked over the rest of him: his hair unwashed, his skin sallow, his eyes red and puffy from prolonged crying. He looked thin under his jumper and stood slightly to the side of the doorway as though expecting, naturally, someone else to be beside him.

“What were you looking for, dear?” Molly’s voice was a strange combination of tight with emotion and that too-soft feminine high pitch women tended to get when forcing themselves to stay calm. 

George’s shoulders slumped even more and he shook his head. “Nothing,” he muttered. He turned to leave. Severus noticed Molly’s desperate expression and remembered Harry saying that George hardly came out of his room during the Sunday lunches.

“The shop seems to be doing well,” Severus remarked, focussing on his potatoes.

“Ron’s handling it well,” George said. “Sales are good.”

“Any new stock coming to terrorize Filch?” 

George grinned briefly. “I’m working on something and having some technical issues. Ron’s no use, though. Fred-” He stopped, swallowing hard. 

“Perhaps I can be of assistance.,” Severus offered. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve made up spells and potions before.” 

Tilting his head, George looked even more lopsided. He had a thoughtful expression on his face; the loneliness appeared to be overshadowed for the moment. “Mum,” George said, keeping his eyes on Severus, “where’s Fred’s purple notebook?”

“On the mantel,” Molly whispered.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then, Sev.” George’s eyebrows raised as he waited for Severus’ response. 

“If you will excuse me, Molly.” Severus set down his knife as Molly encouraged him to go with George. 

They went into the living room, where George retrieved the notebook after a brief hesitation, then he led Severus outside through the cold into Arthur’s work shed. 

“It’ll be quieter in here.” George shuffled his feet a bit. He appeared to be feeling the same awkwardness that Severus was. 

Clearing his throat, Severus said, “What are we dealing with?” 

George opened the notebook somewhere near the back and placed it on the bench between them. In the dim light, they leant over it and started to read.

*

“Where’s Severus?” Harry asked Molly as he, Hermione, Ron and Ginny entered the kitchen. 

Molly had her back to them. She glanced round and they saw she had tear streaks on her cheeks. 

“Mum?” Ginny yelped. “What happened?”

Ron rushed forward to hug her. “It’s okay, Mum.”

Harry felt wary. Had Severus said something? Had he left without telling Harry? 

“He’s in the shed.” Molly smiled through her tears. “With George. They- they are working on new Wheezes products.” 

The four of them exchanged glances as Molly turned back towards the stove. “Can you go and let them know lunch is ready, Harry dear? And Ginny, your father’s with Bill and Fleur in the living room. Hermione, can you go up and let Percy know? And Ron, you can set the table.” 

Wrapping a scarf around his neck, Harry made his way to Arthur’s shed; he quietly slipped inside and smiled. Severus and George were bent over one of the workbenches, sparks flying from their wands, quills moving and bumping as they made quick notes; words flew between them at a fast pace. 

Harry stood and watched as George looked more alive and happy than he had since Fred’s death. Severus had an intense look of concentration and his black eyes roved over George’s wand movements, the notes in front of them. 

“Ahem.” Harry cleared his throat. Neither man jumped as he had expected, they just turned, both frowning at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but lunch is ready. Molly insists you two eat before you continue with your scheming.” 

Severus and George shared a look. “We can come back after lunch,” George said, his voice hesitant. 

“Of course,” Severus said smoothly, inclining his head a bit. 

“Well, let’s not keep Mother waiting, Sev.” George winked and left the shed.

Harry stopped Severus with a hand on his arm. “Thank you.” 

“He is a frighteningly intelligent young man,” Severus replied. “I admire that.” 

“Didn’t he and Fred only get, like, three O.W.L.s between them?” Harry asked.

With a chuckle, Severus kissed Harry on the cheek. “Yes. But there are more types of intelligence than what books and tests can teach you. Never forget that, Harry. George’s mind works without limitations of what he has been taught; his imagination is the only barrier. The technicalities of the magic he wishes to apply are where I step in. His mind works at a phenomenal rate and the new magics he wants to invent, that he _has_ invented with Fred, are astounding. It’s what makes conventional magic almost useless against his products. Look at the swamp and the fireworks they set off against Umbridge; our known spells did nothing, or made his magics worse.” Severus shook his head a bit. “It is mind-boggling.” 

Not knowing what to say, Harry pressed a kiss to Severus’ lips, whispering another thank you. When he pulled back, he said, “Come on. Molly won’t be pleased if we’re late and I think you might need a drink after all that talking.” 

*

After that day, Harry and Severus were regulars at the Burrow Sunday lunches. Severus spent most of his evenings at Grimmauld Place with Harry. His days were spent in his shop, setting up potions ready for sale. 

George was often found with Severus. Harry had offered them the use of one of the many rooms at Grimmauld Place to work on their new Wheezes products. George still looked lost most of the time but working with Severus had given him something to focus on. He would even go into the shop to work with Ron some afternoons. 

Molly kept giving Severus extra food to take home as a thank you. She even knitted him a Weasley jumper, a dark green jumper with a black ‘S’ in the centre. Severus wore it in the evenings when he got cold. Harry knew, despite Severus not saying anything, that being welcomed into the Weasley family had been overwhelming for him. 

He had come to every Healer’s visit with Harry, he rubbed Harry’s sore back and feet, cooked him meals when Molly’s leftovers ran out. Severus took care of Harry.

One day he was making dinner. Harry was meant to be reading the _Quibbler_ at the table in the kitchen but instead was watching Severus move about the stove. Harry felt his eyes blur and realised he was crying. 

Immediately, Severus stopped what he was stirring and knelt before Harry, drawing him into a hug. “What’s all this for?” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry sobbed.

With a soft smile, Severus stroked Harry’s tears off his cheeks. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I was just thinking about how good you are at taking care of me and how you’ll be such a good dad.” Harry sniffed loudly, then laughed weakly at the slight disgust on Severus’ face. “I just keep getting fatter and sorer and- and-”

“Hush,” Severus whispered, drawing Harry in for a hug. “Hush. You’re not fat, you are pregnant. A marvellous feat.”

Harry sighed and hid his face in Severus’ neck. “I love you,” he said, lips brushing the scars. 

Hands pulled Harry back from Severus and the older man waited until Harry met his eyes. He looked into the dark pools and felt the truth emanating through him as Severus replied in kind. Their eyes were locked together as Severus used his Legilimency skills to show Harry images of himself so he could feel how much Severus loved him. 

*

It was a cold, rainy day when their daughter was born.  She had a full head of black hair, a squishy little red face, and ten fingers and ten toes. There was a dark red birthmark covering her left calf and a tiny little mouth that could emit the loudest sound. 

Severus held his daughter close to his chest as Harry slept. He had done so well. They had alerted their family and friends; Severus would let the Weasleys and Minerva in when Harry woke up. Hagrid had already sent a gift, a small stuffed snowy owl reminiscent of Hedwig, and a letter inviting them both to tea whenever Harry was up for it. 

It had been surprising for Severus to find out how close Harry and Hagrid were. Harry visited the half-giant almost every week. They exchanged letters often and Hagrid had been the first person Harry had told of his pregnancy. He had given Harry a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on and handmade gifts to cheer him up. 

Hagrid had been like a father to Harry, Severus realised one day watching the two of them. He was a good man with a big heart and he loved Harry with all of it. He was so proud of Harry and it radiated from him. Harry, for his part, was kind and affectionate and helped Hagrid however he could.

The relationship between them had given Severus an idea. 

When Harry woke up some hours later, Severus placed their daughter in his arms. “We have not discussed names.,” Severus said softly. 

“No.” Harry stroked their daughter’s cheek. “Do you have any idea?” 

“Yes. I’m not sure how receptive you will be.” 

Harry looked sharply at Severus. “Do you want to name her Lily?” Harry’s tone was careful and gave nothing away. 

Shaking his head Severus rested a hand over Harry’s where it curled around their daughter’s stomach. “I wish to call her Ruby. Ruby Potter.” 

The baby opened her mouth a bit and Severus smiled. “I think she likes it.”

“Not Snape? Or Snape-Potter?” Harry questioned. 

Severus thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I am quite happy to be the last Snape in name. She will know who I am, and when she’s old enough she will learn what I have done. I won’t hide it from her, but I do not wish to saddle her with my name.” 

Smiling softly Harry whispered, “Come here. I want to kiss you.” 

Leaning in, Severus kissed Harry warmly. The baby whimpered a bit as they disturbed her with their movements. “Shhh,” Harry soothed, “it’s alright, my little gem. Daddy’s here Ruby, Papa’s right here.”

They stayed close together on the bed. Soon Severus would let in the horde of Weasleys waiting outside to greet her, but for now, it was just the three of them. Severus felt peaceful and, for once, all was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3774016.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1708873.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1019964.html).


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